


Blood

by Jentrevellan



Series: Reilyn Surana [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Drama, First Period, Mages, Magic, Puberty, Templars, Warden POV, Young Anders, jowan/surana friendship, wynne being motherly, young jowan, young surana
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 14:25:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9389090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jentrevellan/pseuds/Jentrevellan
Summary: Reilyn Surana discovers the joys of being 13 and hitting puberty in the Circle.





	

**9:18 Dragon**

_It’s a dream of blood. Thick, sticky blood that swallows me as I wander the Fade. The iron smell makes my nostrils flare in distaste. I look down, unable to move. There’s a figure kneeling before me, a wicked grin on its demonic face. The creature twirls a dagger in its flaming hands and lunges forward, plunging the dagger straight into my abdomen. An explosion of pain where the dagger strikes brings tears to my eyes, blood pounding in my ears, blood flooding all around me. Like thick, quick-rising flood water, it rises until I’m swimming in it, struggling for breath. The ocean of blood makes me choke and gag as I struggle to stay afloat. But it consumes me, pulling me down, burning my throat, suffocating._

I wake with a start, cold sweat clinging to my forehead. I sit up in my bunk, careful not to hit my head and look down at my shaking hands. It’s unusual for my dreams in the Fade to be so vivid and feel so real. And the most disconcerting thing is that the pain I felt in my abdomen has not subsided. It is present and _oh_ , so painful.

I throw back my blankets, panic setting in. The pain worsens when I move. I double over, sucking for air. Head spinning I tentatively pull up my nightgown, holding back tears, as the pain explodes again; the blood smeared in-between my legs, stuck to my thighs. Stains on the mattress.

“Help,” I rasp, my lips chapped. But despite the room being full of other apprentices, none hear me. I squeeze my eyes tight shut again as another wave of pain washes over me. I feel warm, clammy, sweat oozing from my skin, the pain like the dagger from my dream. I look up and note, quite calmly that my discarded blankets are now on fire. Surely this is still the Fade?

A scream sounds so distant. Is that me screaming? I think I’m falling asleep, or am I waking up? Hands grab me, voices are loud in my ears. Can’t everyone just please, be quiet? I want to sleep, I want to pain to end. Just let it end.

 

* * *

 

“Reilyn?” A voice asks. It’s far away. It’s a whisper against my mind. A small voice, but kindly. Female, perhaps?

I peel open my eyes. I’m lying down on a large bed that’s not my own. It’s twice as big with colour drapes and soft furs. I spread my fingers in the blankets, relishing the touch of softness. The pillow is soft and comfortable, and I’m warm. I don’t ever want to leave this spot.

And the pain has gone.

I turn my head as the voice repeats my name. A woman - one of the senior enchanters, by the looks of her robes - sits perched on a stool next to me, her head tilted to the side. She has kind eyes with soft lines around them, although her hair is pulled back into a tight knot that makes her face look stern. I blink slowly, trying to regain my senses and some sort of understanding.

“Reilyn, can you hear me?” she asks, leaning forwards. An outstretched hand gently touches my forehead, her hands cool, fingertips like ice. I relax back into the pillows, wanting to fall asleep, to escape this strange dream I’m having.

There are two voices this time. I must’ve slipped back into the Fade, into a dreamless sleep after all, but this time as I wake, I feel more alive, more human. The woman is not here, but I can hear her voice, talking with another. With deep breaths, I force myself into a sitting position and listen to the discussion taking place just outside the door of the chamber.

“… be alright?” a voice says, male, a twinge of concern.

“Yes, she’ll be fine, Irving. No need to call the Templars: it’s simply her Moon’s Blood,” the woman’s voice replies, the same woman as before, I assume.

“Ah, well I’ll leave that in your capable hands, Wynne.”

“Why thank you _so_ much,” she replies dryly.

The woman steps back into the room and raises her eyebrows when she sees me. “Oh, you’re awake. Good.” Striding over, she uncaps a small bottle and pours it into a goblet before passing it to me. “Here, drink this: it will help with the pain.”

I take it eagerly and down the liquid in one, not realising how thirsty I was. “The pain has gone now”, I admit, passing the cup back to her.

She perches on the stool again. “But it will come back, you know.”

My stomach twists. “Come back?” I repeat, fearful, my voice small, weak.

She blinks. “Of course… you do know what’s happening, don’t you?”

“No… I… I remember dreaming,” I say slowly, my face warming under her gaze. “I was dreaming of blood and then I was stabbed. But when I woke the pain was still there,” I point in the vague direction of my abdomen underneath the thick blankets and furs.

“Oh Andraste preserve me,” the woman mutters. “My dear, has no-one told you of the Moon’s Blood?” she asks.

 _Moon’s Blood?_ “Is it some sort of blood magic?” I ask, fear setting in. “I’m not a blood mage, I swear!” I say hurriedly. “I don’t know what happened but it hurt and then there was fire and, oh Maker, please, don’t make me Tranquil, I don’t know what I did-”

“Hush, child!” she cuts across me, holding a hand up. Instantly I still. Quite calmly she says; “I’m not going to make you Tranquil. I’m a mage myself, you see?” she points to her robes. “I’m Enchanter Wynne, and you’re in the guest rooms of Kinloch Hold, and quite safe with me. Although how I ended up fostering you on my visit is beyond me,” she adds as an afterthought.

“Then… then I'm not going to be made tranquil?” I hold my breath.

“No my dear. You’ve done nothing wrong. Well, you just set your bed linen on fire, but the servants have already taken care of that.” A brief smile crosses her face.

I settle back into the pillows, processing her words. “Then what was the pain?”

Wynne comes and sits beside me on the bed, taking one of my hands in her own. Her fingers are cool and gently ease out mana to give me strength.

“You, my dear, are becoming a young woman,” she smiles. “What that means is that every moon cycle, you will bleed, as the Maker willed it. It also means that one day, you may have children.”

“What?” I repeat, horrified. I’m only a child myself! Only just thirteen!

“Oh not anytime soon!” she chuckles. “Did your mother not tell you this?”

I shake my head. “I don’t remember my mother,” I admit. “I’ve been here since I was two or three.”

Wynne’s smile fades. “Of course… well my dear, I will give you enough potions to keep you going for this month. The other girls in your rooms will be going through the same, although they might not set their blankets on fire.”

“Why did that happen?” I ask suddenly. “That’s not going to happen every time, is it?”

She shakes her head. “No, it’s only because you panicked. You will have more lessons soon on how to control it. But your magic will become stronger, now that you’ve started your Moon’s Blood. You must learn quickly and eagerly, how to control your magic, so it can do good. Can you do that for me?”

I nod my head vigorously. “I will, Enchanter Wynne.”

Wynne smiles again. “Excellent. Now, how are you feeling? Do you think you can walk back to the apprentice quarters?”

She helps me get out of bed and I thank her profusely when she shows me out of the guest room. Wynne nods and smiles, giving me potions and I walk slowly down the circular corridors, back to the apprentice rooms. I’m looking forward to getting back into bed, as I feel weak, my legs moving slowly. I think it must be all the blood I’m loosing. Oh Maker, and I have to suffer this every month? It’s so unfair! I clutch the potions in my arms a little tighter as my anger flares. How is it fair that I have to have this, monthly, for the rest of my life? Why do boys not get it? They know nothing of pain compared to this!

I stop in my tracks as a little blonde boy, no older than me, standing in a corridor doorway, sobs quietly. I glare at him.

“What are _you_ crying for?” I snap.

He huffs in response, his large amber eyes round and brimmed with tears. It’s so pathetic. What he’s upset about is _nothing_ compared to feeling like I’ve been stabbed repeatedly in the abdomen. Something that’s going to happen every, single, month.

The boy wails a loud cry and I wrinkle my nose in distaste. “Oh, shush!” I say, wanting to be far away, nice and warm in my bed, and pretend that today hasn’t happened.

But then I notice his clothing - he’s not wearing apprentice robes or any clothes I recognise. Perhaps he’s some noble’s child, visiting the circle on business and he’s wandered away? Normally I would probably feel a pang of sympathy, but today, of all days, I’m not feeling in the best of moods. Sourly I wonder why that could be.

“What’s your name?” I say, as patiently as I can. But the boy continues to cry, holding onto a small pillow tightly. His nose is red, his eyes scrunched up and now his cries are louder and I roll my eyes.

“Where are you meant to be?” I demand, what little patience I had left, is very quickly fading. “Where’s your mother and father?”

“Apprentice! Apprentice, step away from him!” A voice from behind me commands. I turn feel ice all over me as a templar approaches, one of the senior enchanters in tow.

“Here’s the boy,” the mage says to the templar, slightly out of breath.

“Who is he?” I ask, curiously.

“None of your business, Apprentice,” the templar replies, grabbing the boy by the elbow and dragging him away. He cries harder, his wails echoing down the corridors.

The mage looks at me. “He’s just been sent here. Set a barn on fire by accident-“ he stops and peers down at me. “ _You_ should be in bed, Apprentice,” he says. “Go on, on with you.”

I run back to my rooms, where the rest of the girls are sleeping. I glance out the tall window and note that it’s still a few hours until the morning bell. I quietly pad my way over to my bunk, grateful for the clean sheets and blankets. Stowing away the potions, I pause before getting into bed: I can still hear the little boy’s cries.

 

* * *

 

 “Did you hear all of that crying last night?” My friend Jowan asks me at breakfast.

I stir my porridge. “Yeah…”

Jowan leans on his elbows opposite me. “They sent a new boy into our rooms and he wouldn’t stop crying.”

“I could hear him from the girl's rooms,” I say. Thankfully, the girls I share my rooms with were kind enough to not blab my night-time… 'activities' to the boys. Perhaps it’s some unwritten rule that despite our many differences, in this one instance, we stick together. I do not question it.

“Well he’s stopped crying now,” Jowan explains. “But now he won’t talk! It’s really stupid. He looks like he’s from the Anderfells. Maybe they’re all stupid there.”

I think back to my first few weeks of what I can remember of being in a Circle. I was much younger, but I don’t think I cried that much.

“I heard he killed some peasants by setting them on fire,” Jowan continues, smiling.

“That’s not true,” I say.

“Oh yeah? How’d you know?”

I lean forward. “Don’t tell anyone, but I had a … nightmare, and was awake when they brought him in. One of the mages told me.”

“Hmm,” Jowan frowns, disbelieving.

“Honestly!” I insist. “The mage said the boy set a barn on fire by accident. His family must’ve got scared or something.”

“Well, as long as he doesn’t cry tonight, I’ll be more than grateful.”

Jowan and I leave the dining hall and head towards the library for our first lesson. It’s a boring, dull lecture on the history of magic, and one that I could very easily fall asleep in. The teacher is an elderly mage with a voice so monotonous, that Jowan _does_ actually fall asleep, his head in his arms. I poke him awake on more than one occasion as soon as the teacher’s back is turned to write down a note. But Jowan does himself no favours when he lets out a loud snore.

“Apprentice Jowan, I’ll see you after class,” the teacher scolds in a bored voice. I smother a chuckle as Jowan blinks slowly, still drowsy from his nap.

“I’ll meet you upstairs,” I say to him as I leave class, books in my arms. He nods slowly, watching with dismay as the teacher strolls over, a thick roll of parchment in his hands.

I dash upstairs to the girl’s rooms and stow my books away, before taking out another potion from under the bed. The pain in my abdomen licks at my insides, threatening to surface, so I gulp down one of the potions Wynne had given me from the night before. Instantly, I feel the calm liquid do its work as my muscles relax.

I pick up the books for my next class and head over to the boy’s rooms to wait for Jowan so we can study. A free period in our timetable is rare, and there are exams coming up, so we’ve become pretty good at studying together in any downtime. I stroll into the empty rooms and sit on the floor by Jowan’s bed. The tome in my arms is heavy, so I drop it on the floor and open it up to the page I had marked and begin to read. A section on controlling magic once you’ve hit puberty spikes my interest and I become absorbed in the contents, wanting to know more.

The hairs on the back my neck raise as I read and I look up and jump. The boy from last night is stood in front of me, still clutching that pillow, but now wearing an apprentice robe. His eyes are round and red, but he’s not crying anymore. Instead, he’s just looking at me, his messy mop of yellow hair falling around his face. He chews his bottom lip.

“Hello,” I say, remembering my actions from last night. I had snapped at the poor boy, and really, with a good brush of his hair, he could be quite cute. I scold myself and pat the floor next to me. “Won’t you sit with me?”

He looks at me, and then to the ground beside me and back again as if processing my words. “I’m sorry about last night,” I say, guilt tickling my stomach. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

The boy nods and sits next to me, bringing his knees up to his chest and hugging them.

“Do you have a name?” I ask, tugging my hair behind my ears.

But the boy doesn’t reply. He just looks at me with those big eyes.

I frown. “Can you understand me?”

Slowly, he nods, but it’s reluctant.

I settle back, leaning against the bed. “Well I’m doing some studying - would you like me to read to you? You’ve probably got a lot to catch up on.”

He nods again and I begin to read aloud until he falls asleep, leaning against my arm. I smile and press a finger to my lips when Jowan finds us an hour later.


End file.
